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“Beg pardon, miss. Mrs. Partridge said you wanted to know if anything was being sent into the village today.”
Judith set down her pencil. “Who does that belong to?”
“Lady Dunsmore, miss. Her brooch has come loose again. She wants Mr. Pearce to mend it.”
Judith stared at the parcel. For one ridiculous moment she could hear Baines’ voice telling her not to discover treason in every piece of toast. “Who is taking it?”
“James, miss. He’s going for the post.”
Judith rose. “Has anyone else sent anything?”
“Mr. Pembroke has letters, and Sir George sent his boots to be repaired. Lady Dunsmore’s maid has a parcel for the apothecary, but that’s medicine for her ladyship’s dog.”
“Is there anything from Lord Cranford?”
The maid shook her head. Judith thanked her and returned to the desk, but the linen inventory had lost whatever limited fascination it had once possessed.
A brooch being repaired proved nothing—jewellery broke. Boots required mending; letters required posting. Blackthorn functioned through a constant procession of objects travelling between house and village. That was precisely the problem. She left the housekeeper’s room and nearly collided with Baines in the passage. He caught her by the elbows before either of them suffered injury.
“Judith.”
“There is a parcel going out.”
His expression changed at once, though his hands remained upon her arms. “What sort?”
“Jewellery. Lady Dunsmore’s brooch requires repair.”
He released her slowly. “Anything else?”
“Sir George’s boots for repair, and some letters.”
“We shall let Stuart see what leaves the village.” His mouth curved. “You appear disappointed.”
“I dislike knowing that something may be happening while being obliged to stand still.”
“That is the greater part of Intelligence work,” he explained.
“How dreadful.”
“It explains Renforth’s disposition.”
She smiled, but her attention returned to the parcel. “Lady Beckenham told you about Lady Marwood’s necklace, did she not?”
“She did.”
“And now another piece of jewellery is leaving the house.”
“It may be nothing.”
“Yes.”
Baines looked towards the end of the passage. “I am going riding after luncheon. If anything develops, there will be a message at the north gate.”
“What will you do if there is?”
“I shall find you.”
He started away, then turned back.
